


Fuck the Pain

by Measured_Words



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Dominance, F/M, Masturbation, Nipple Piercings, Oral Sex, Painplay, Scarification, Scars, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:49:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/pseuds/Measured_Words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That was where she found him when she came home: lying on her bed, touching himself lightly, lost to lust and uncertainty.  He sat up as she entered, smiling, wincing, and beckoning her closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuck the Pain

San reached the stairs at Earric and Phedre’s house, looked down, and whisked himself away, up a different flight of steps, to Dozilva’s house in the Castalia district. She wasn’t home yet, and despite how strongly he felt he needed her then he refused to call for her magically. Instead he sat on her bed and pulled up his robe. The scabs over the design she’d chosen for him hadn’t torn open as he’d feared, but in some places they leaked a yellowish fluid and were crusted around the edges, and there was some redness. He let the cloth fall again as he lay back, noting the fading damp spot where Earric’s lips had pressed so gently, so hungrily against the silk. The hunger that he’d felt flare in himself then had been troubling, and more so because he still hadn’t quite banished it. Even just laying a hand on top of the wound was enough to cause warm stirring in his groin – he probed the scabs through the thin fabric. He needed her, whether to feed it or exorcise it he wasn’t sure.

That was where she found him when she came home: lying on her bed, touching himself lightly, lost to lust and uncertainty. He sat up as she entered, smiling, wincing, and beckoning her closer. Dozilva was surprised to see him, but he shushed her, cutting off any questions with kisses. They seemed to be enough to tell her what he wanted, and why he’d waited. Her clothes were more complex than his, but she shed them easily, and helped him ease out of his robe so that they could be naked together. He felt raw and exposed, like his wound. She bent to look at her handiwork, frowning slightly. “You should be careful with it still,” she started to say, but he hushed her again pulling her hands to his thighs.

“Kiss it,” he commanded, letting her decide if he meant the frond she’d carved into his hip to mark his acceptance of their commitment, or his cock. She’d sucked him off then too, after the cutting, but it had been new and the fresh pain had tempered rather than fueled his lust. Instead of immediately obeying, she ran her own hand lightly over the wound, smiling as he shuddered, eyes rolling back. His cock twitched, and he arched his hips as she pressed more firmly against one of the scabs.

“Just kiss?” she asked playfully, her lips brushing against his shaft as she finally acquiesced.

He was gripped by an uncharacteristic, if not entirely unfamiliar, intensity. It had been the same when he’d first marked her, when she’d begged him for the knife and he’d first tasted the alien flavour of her blood. He hadn’t felt the same when she’d finally marked him in return – that had been born of a different kind of catharsis. Some small current of his self wondered, and worried, that this surge had been spurred on by another, but to the rest, it did not matter. She was here now, and he grabbed her hair and forced himself inside her parting lips.

Her mouth was wet and eager and she fed her hunger on his own, siphoning out passion along with moans of pleasure. Lips and tongue ran over his cock, probing, licking, sucking, kissing. He kept one hand on her head, the other on her shoulder, gripping not with great strength but with careful, constant, control. Her hands ranged more freely, brushing against his cuts, caressing his thighs, fondling his balls, and steadying herself against him. Through their touches, he could feel her inside him – they shared racing heartbeats, ragged breaths, and exhilarating pains.

Speaking mind to mind, Sanadhil commanded her to stop – he wanted to savour the feast of her body. She climbed up beside him and spread herself, wet and eager for the touch of his tongue. He tasted her mouth first, her neck and breasts, the scars that another lover had carved into her grey flesh, the mark he had made along the side of her ribs. Kisses and caresses turned to bites and scratches as he bent over her and his own pain flared, and Dozilva panted and begged for more. Finally, he bent his head to her pussy, licking up her inner thigh, tongue sliding along the slickness of her lips, probing inside her, slipping up to flick across her clit and make her whimper. Two fingers explored her inner recesses as he tongued her, drawing out further cries of passion. He bit her hip when she came, leaving a bruise that echoed his wound.

Her fluid still dripped from his hand as he knelt beside her, and he used it to slick himself as he ordered her to get up, to come to him, to ease her ass onto his ready cock. He winced when he knelt, he winced again as she lowered herself slowly onto him, her thighs squeezing into his hips. All of her movements made themselves felt in his cuts, and on his cock. The pain so mixed with pleasure made him feel lightheaded, as though he might pass out. He buried his head between her breasts, one hand on her waist and the other on her thigh, nails raking into her flesh. At first he gave her orders – how deep, how fast, how hard, where to kiss (his face, his ears), where to touch (the nipple she’d pierced, his cuts, herself), but his desire was so overwhelming that all he wanted was more – more pleasure, more pain, more of her. He came so hard that he nearly blacked out, his head clearing slowly as she climbed off of him a few moments later.

“…let me take care of you,” she was saying, smiling, pushing him back down on the bed gently.

“I can’t stay,” he answered as he acquiesced while she ministered to him, washing out his cuts with some burning astringent liquid before reapplying a coating of the healing paste that would ensure the wound scarred. Some of the scabs had broken open during their fucking, and there was blood on her thigh as well as his. With his passion spent, the uncertainties that came with it returned in force. He needed time to himself – either to think, or to immerse himself in his endless research to distract himself from thinking. Dozilva nodded finally, concern bleeding the contentment from her features.

“Come back tonight then. Or tomorrow. We can eat together, and I can look at your scars again.”

He nodded in uncertain commitment as she helped him up, helped him dress, and helped him down the stairs, and he wondered again at what he felt for this woman, that he would let her render him so helpless, and so vulnerable. It was better than thinking about where else that vulnerability had led him, at least. He smiled as he kissed her goodbye.


End file.
